


Who the hell is Bucky?

by syusuke



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Past Brainwashing, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4347437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syusuke/pseuds/syusuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembered the man on the bridge. He knew him.</p><p>Steve breaks the brainwashing and  Bucky has a long way to go, to find himself. Can he be Bucky again? Or will he remain the asset?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Assessing the situation

\--- On the bridge ---

Landed on target. Ripped out the wheel. Two level 6 targets and a black male assessed as a level two threat escaped the crash. Romanoff in sight, pursuit initiated. Captain America left to soldiers.

Shot to face. Damage limited to goggles. Discarded. Romanoff running north-east, blocked vision. No headshot possible. Lost sight. Blocking out noise from the crowd, female whispering locations. Using explosive, no screaming, no one escaping. Abort! New target location. Defensive tactics, steel-whire. Metalhand! Metal! Flesh might get cut off. Target is good at close combat. Paralyzed. Getting device of arm. Target flees, clear shot. Shoulder hit. Eliminating target, taking aim.

Target two incoming. Blocking shield. Engaging in close combat. Firearms lost, resort to knives. Shield is dangerous. Damaged metal arm. „Bucky?!“ Eliminate target, eliminate!  
„Who the hell is Bucky?“ Why did I reply? Who is Bucky? Why does target not attack? Who is he? Why are there images flashing through my mind? A skinny kid getting beaten up, an enormous fire and a blonde buff guy on the other side… Abort mission. Abort! Not functioning properly, heading underground, reporting back to base.

 

\--- Prep room ----

„Mission report. Mission report, NOW!“

Who is that blonde guy? What are these images? Memories? I know him. Who is Bucky? Who am I? Why am I here? Why do I have to kill this target? 

„Wipe him.“

No… no! I want to know. What are these memories? How do they connect? Who is Captain America? I knew him. I knew him! That skinny kid… Brooklyn. Steve?

 

\--- Shield headquarter ---

The first thing on the assets mind, was this one name. Steve. He knew better, than to tell his handlers. He would be wiped again and he wanted to avoid the pain if possible. As long as nobody asked him directly, he wasn’t going against orders. No one asked. He was asigned to a new mission. He was to stand by within ten minute distance to his handler and await orders. About an hour later the attack against Hydra started and he was ordered to take down Captain America and whoever fought with him. Eliminating the shield agents wasn’t a challenge. The exo Falcon put up more of a fight, but was quickly grounded, which left only one target. Captain America wanted to take down the helicarrier, so the asset waited for him in the machine room. 

„Don’t make me do this. People are gonna die, Buck.“ This felt familiar. Buck? Was that him? No, he was an asset. He didn’t need an identity, didn’t have one. It didn’t matter what the other man said or did. He was just a mission. A target to be eliminated.

„You know me. You’ve known me your whole life.“ It makes him angry. „No, I don’t!“ He hits him even harder. He wants him to shut up. His head hurts. There are flashes of memories dancing in front of his eyes. It gets hard to concentrate. He must end this quickly, before his brain shuts down. His precision fails, the swings get uncoordinated.

The target holds him in a headlock. The asset still holds on to the controll chip, trying to crush it in his flesh hand. The target begs him to let go of it, but resorts to breaking his arm, when he doesn’t. It hurts badly, he can’t breathe, can’t get out. The darkness swallows him and he goes limp. When he comes to one of his firearms is in reach and the target is climbing. A very vulnerable position. He shoots at him. One, two, three shots hit the target. He is taking aim again, when the construction crumbles. He tries to evade it, but it’s too late. He gets buried underneath a beam. He’s stuck and the target is coming closer. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t free himself. With no means to defend himself, he awaits death. The target approaches, weary from the earlier fight and losing blood. But he doesn’t lean in for the kill. Instead he lifts the beam and the asset crawls out under it. They’re facing each other again.

„Your name is James Buchanan Barnes and you are my friend.“ The target drops his shield, relaxing his stance. The asset hesitates just a second, ignoring the vivid memories surging underneath the surface. „You are my mission.“ He tackles the target to the ground, hitting him over and over. The target doesn’t fight back, simply looks up at him and says: „Then finish it.“ The asset freezes. The memories start connecting. Seargant James Barnes departing to war. Punk. Steve. The skinny kid from Brooklyn. Captain America and the Howling Comandos. The train, falling… Then everything starts shifting around them, the target, no Steve, is falling. He watches him fall as he holds on to some metal, remembering his own fall from the train. Steve shouting after him. Zola, the experiment. And before he consciously makes a decision, he is jumping after him. Steve is sinking fast and he has to dive deep, till his metal hand grabs one of the uniform belts. He is exhausted, mentally and physically. He struggles to come up for air, barely able to swim with his broken arm. Steve is so much heavier than he looks and his own uniform doesn’t allow much movement when wet. They make it to the river bank. 

The asset stares at Steve until he takes a stuttering breath. He takes a moment to assess his injuries. After a short hesitation he also assesses his emotions, finding that he is glad that Steve is breathing. His brain is in turmoil and he can’t quite distinguish the different emotions, just knows that he wants Steve to be alive. Steve had called him Bucky. He wasn’t Bucky, not right now. He also knew, he wasn’t the asset anymore. Something very important changed. He would have to find out, who Bucky was and who he could be. But he couldn’t do it here. Even though Steve didn’t kill him, when he could. He was still a threat, possibly the most dangerous one regarding strength and combat skills. He was trained to survive on his own. If necessary there was a hide-out nearby to get weapons and nutrients.

He turned to walk away. „Bucky...“ It was spoken in a low voice, almost a ghost of times gone by. He didn’t react to it. He wasn’t Bucky anymore and he never would be. Not after all the things he went through.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the asset can hold on to his memories. He pays a visit to the Smithsonian to try and make sense of the flashes he gets.

\--- Three days later at the Smithsonian ---

He decided to call himself Jim Smith for now, the names being fairly common and not noticable. He had considered to use James, but quickly realized, he’d never liked the name. A faint smile spread over his face, as he recalled the exact moment, he’d remembered that. In the military he was just Barnes, Steve always called him Bucky so did the commandos. To his siblings and parents he was Jimmy. So whenever anyone called him James, he was in trouble. Jim Smith would do for now. As far as he could tell, there was no way he could go back to being Bucky Barnes anyway. He was supposed to be dead since 70 years. Maybe Bucky Barnes had been dead since 70 years. He’d have no problem acting like that. 

The exhibit was quite big. He read everything and looked at all the pictures and videos. He easily spent a whole day in the museum. The videos helped a lot. He could watch them over and over again, at first only faintly remembering it. He liked the parts when Bucky and Steve smiled at each other. They were in the middle of the war, but they found comfort in each other, trying to see the bright side every once in a while. When he left the exhibit, he couldn’t help but overhear two little boys arguing. „Captain America is the coolest hero! He saved all these soldiers on his own!“ „Oh come on, he didn’t do it alone! They all helped too, once they were freed.“ „Duh, who freed them in the first place, stupid!“ „He wouldn’t be anyone important without the experiment! The howling commandos are the real heroes! They did all this stuff without being supersoldiers!“ „Oh my god, you are so stupid! They would all be dead without him!“ A woman close to them sighed heavily and interrupted them: „Remember what Granny used to say? If you insult Steve, don’t let Bucky hear it or you’ll be in for some trouble.“ That made him look up. Curiously he stared at her. Sure enough, she resembled Peggy and somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered reading that Peggy had a family. The three of them argued light-heartedly about who was the real hero and walked off to the underground station. 

Jim returned to the secret hydra hide-out. He didn’t like that he liked it here. It was dark and gloomy. More like a warehouse than a safehouse. He had examined the weapons and tested whether they worked. Most did. There were no bunks, but he improvised with the few blankets and clothes he found. It felt oddly safe this way. He wasn’t used to the comfort of a bed or running water. He didn’t have much use for electricity either. Sure, he had to learn how to operate computers and find information while being the asset. He couldn’t bring himself to try and think about that time. Instead he tried to remember as much as he could about Steve and the war. They weren’t exactly good memories. Most of them revolved around endless fighting and almost starving at times. If he was lucky, he remembered the days before the war and dancing with the dames. He liked dancing and had considered himself a good dancer. Right now though, he’d probably be terrible. He was trained to be an assassin, a weapon. The metal arm had changed his balance and he’d be too tense anyway.

Everyday he remembered a bit more. Sometimes they were happy memories of dancing and playing. Mostly they were about the war. With some he wasn’t sure from when they were. He only remembered pulling the trigger and sniping a surprised target. Memories like those made him restless. He’s been a murderer before Hydra got to him. He had shot many enemies. Did Hydra turn him into an assassin? Or did they just reveal his true self?

 

\--- A week after the crash ----

 

He was running low on food. At least his arm was healing quickly and he found thin gloves and an oversized hoodie to hide the metal one. Aside from the broken arm he just had some scratches, nothing that required medical attention. He had been walking around New York everyday now, always looking for threats while desperately searching for any information on Steve’s state and possible Hydra actions. There was another hide-out about an eight hour’s drive away. He’d move there as soon as his arm would allow him to drive the motorbike left in the garage. Until then he was spending time in the library, reading up on war history and that whole avenger thing. He was on his way back, when he saw Steve walking a few paces in front of him. Steve walked slowly and was limping a little. Jim waited a few seconds to get more space in between them. He followed Steve to his apartment, surprised that the blonde didn’t turn around once. He was either too exhausted or felt secure in New York. The apartment building was nothing special. Steve fiddled with the keys, delaying to enter his home. „You can come in, if you don’t kill me.“ Jim froze on the spot. Steve still hadn’t turned around. One quick glance assured him, that he could take Steve out easily, if he had to. A part of him really wanted to go with him. That’s the reason he followed him in the first place, wasn’t it? „Bucky, please. Let’s talk?“, Steve’s shoulders were shaking slightly. „Don’t call me that. I’m not Bucky anymore.“, he sighed deeply, „It’s Jim now? I’d... like to talk.“ Steve opened the door and walked in. Leaving the door open in a silent invitation. „Would you like some coffee, Buck?.. I mean.. Jim.“, he heard Steve calling from another room, presumably the kitchen. Jim thought about it for a moment. Did he like coffee? A warm drink sounded good though. Instead of shouting back at the blonde, he joined him in the kitchen. There were already two steaming mugs on the kitchen table. Steve gestured him to sit down and smiled at him. „It was you, wasn’t it? You pulled me out of the water.“ It wasn’t really a question and Jim didn’t answer it. The man in front of him wasn’t afraid of him, nor did he pose a threat right now. He took a sip from the coffee, startled when it burned his tongue. He hissed quietly and put it down again. 

„So listen, I don’t know how much you remember. But you haven’t attacked me yet, I’ll count that as a good thing. If I... can fill any gaps, I’d like to. You can just ask. Everything, really. We never had secrets between us.“ Steve looked at him with those puppy eyes, he’d always used when he really wanted something. Jim smiled a little at that. He knew that expression. It had worked a lot better, before he got all buff. He searched his words carefully, not wanting to hurt Steve. „I remember a few things. Mostly from the war. I try not to think about the time as the Winter Soldier. That’s what they called me, isn’t it?“. A short nod from Steve. „I was in the Smithsonian a few days ago. I studied everything carefully. It triggered some memories that... let’s not talk about those. I don’t think I can be Bucky Barnes again... but I’m not the Winter Soldier either. At least I hope I’m not.“ Talking about it was hard, it made him emotional. It was hard to stay controlled. His voice almost cracked a little. He stared into his mug, avoiding eye contact. „You’re not the Winter Soldier. That was never you. You didn’t want to do those things. You fought against they’re manipulation. You remembered me. I’m here Buck... You didn’t kill me, you saved me from drowning.“ Steve sounded very tired. Suddenly a hand reached for the metal wrist and Jim jerked away. Before he knew it, he stood a few feet away, hiding his hurt arm behind his body, knife in hand. Steve raised his hands in surrender, apologizing and pleading with him to stay. Jim looked at the knife confused, he put it back on the counter. He kept his eyes on Steve as he took deep breaths. „Bucky please... calm down. Everything is fine. Nothing bad happened. I’m not a threat to you. Look at me, I’m still recovering. I’m in no shape to fight.“ He relaxed his stance slightly. Carefully he put his broken arm back into the make-shift sling, quickly checking whether the bones shifted. Steve was about to get up, but he signed him to stay put. He couldn’t help a soft wince, when he pushed the bone back. 

„I need... I don’t know. I had so many memories to sort through. It worked out so far. But I can’t do this alone.“ He hadn’t meant to say it. He had been connecting memories and rebuilding his past over this last week. His brain had been more cooperative the more time passed since his last wiping. He had always been a fast learner, quick-thinker. He remembers that he wanted to be an engineer, an inventor maybe. „You keep calling me Bucky... Bucky was a good man. He was a soldier, who got captured, experimented on. Bucky was your friend, the sniper of the howling commandos. Bucky fell to his death. He doesn’t exist anymore. I need you to understand that. Bucky was killed in action.“ He didn’t expect to get angry about this. He was fuming now. It was important. Bucky Barnes died as a hero. As desperately as he wanted to be that man again, he knew he could never return to that. It was impossible. He needed to leave. Right now.

„Bu.. wait! Jim wait! Don’t leave. I’ll try, I’ll try, okay? Please, sit down again. I won’t do anything, you don’t want. It’s just that... we used to like little touches. They calmed us down during the war, reminded us the other was there and alive. It’s kinda hard to ignore, I guess.“ That pleading voice was going to be the end of him. But this was so good. He didn’t want to leave, it just startled him how quickly he reserted back to the asset. He sat back down. He didn’t know what to say, so he just went for his coffee again. Only now did he taste the sugar in it. It confused him for a bit, before he remembered that was the way he used to drink it. Steve only smiled at him and offered to make dinner. Jim considered it. Steve’s presence was nice. He wanted to stay a little. Seeing how Steve still flinched every now and then moving around, he took over. Jim made a simple stew. Actually a bit surprised how easily he remembered this specific dish. He didn’t speak much, only asked for ingredients once in a while. Steve took the hint and stayed silent, even closing his eyes for a while. The stew was delicious and they ate in companiable silence. „So, any questions you’d like to ask yet?“ Jim considered the different topics. In the end he went for some basic things about modern America and what happened to Stark. He still couldn’t forget that flying car. He was surprised to hear that Stark’s son might be the even bigger genius than Howard himself. Steve even told him bits and peaces about the avengers. When he mentioned Howard’s car accident, Jim went rigid. He got up immediately and left without further explanation. Steve called after him, shouted something about coming back anytime. To Jim it didn’t matter. He remembered causing the accident, remembered Howard’s shocked face when he recognized him as Bucky. He took to the streets and started running. Restless energy flooding his body. He ran and ran, quickly nearing the outer parts of the city. He needed to get away from people.


	3. A cabin to retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The asset has taken on the persona of Jim Smith. Trying to calm down and retreat. When he realizes, he can't handle it on his own, he searches for the only person who seems to know him.

\--- About a month later ---

Jim had found the other hide-out. He went running all the way to it that night after meeting Steve. He forged a passport and drivers licence. Somewhat officially taking on the name Jim Smith now. The new hide-out was more comfortable. Actually safe-house material. No one had come here and he started to doubt that anyone else still knew about its location. There was enough money there to get by for a while. But he didn’t need much money anyway, he went hunting for meat and didn’t need any of that sugary stuff they called food nowadays. He was just fine with some potatoes or rice. He was still unsure, if he could manage being around people. The few encounters he’s had when buying food went well. He was even able to handle a visit to the hairdresser and got rid of the annoyingly long hair. His right arm was much better, but still hurting. At least he could move around without the sling, if he had to. So far he had taken it slow, eventually he’d have to confront bigger crowds though. He was no fool. He knew enough about the mindfuck they did on him, to realize he’d need help to get over it. That was one of the reasons he was heading back to New York. The main one though was Steve. He’d been right, they used to like reassuring little touches and as much as he wanted to ignore it, he was craving physical contact. For seventy years the only touches he received were either doctor’s fixing him up again or getting hit either by targets or his handlers. Jim couldn’t deny any longer that Bucky Barnes was a man who had shown his affection through touch and craved it. This one quality of Bucky had stayed with him and he couldn’t shake it off.

It had taken him all day to get to the city and then find Steve’s appartement. He could have easily sneaked in through a window. Not today, he wasn’t an assassin anymore. He was Jim Smith, the weird hunter that lived alone in the old cabin. The weird guy who helped the lost kids out of the forest and never accepted a dinner invitation as a way of thanks. He was Jim Smith, who used to be Bucky Barnes and also the infamous Winter Soldier. He was a simple man who wanted nothing more than forget the bad he’s done. 

A last steadying breath, then he knocked. Several seconds ticked by, there was no noise. He knocked louder this time. When nothing happened, he tested the doorknob. It was open. „Steve? Steve, are you home?“ He came such a long way... He‘ d take a peak. The appartement was clean and neat. It smelt familiar. A faint smell of bread and a little bit of leather and sweat. He caught a glimpse of movement to his right. A figure lay on the couch, muttering inaudible words. Upon a closer look Jim could tell it was indeed Steve who looked like he had a nightmare. „I thought you were dead...“ Jim froze, he remembered that, whispered „I thought you were smaller“. He remembered thinking, that Steve was just a hallucination, that he was just dying from the experiments and the strange serum they gave him. He remembered fearing for Steve’s life in the cold winters at home. They had snuggled into a bed together, trying to keep warm. Steve wasn’t waking up, he started tossing, the shouts getting louder. „Bucky, hold on. I’ll get you. Bucky, no! NOO!“ Jim grabbed him, shaking his shoulders. Softly speaking: „Wake up. Stevie. Wake up. I’m here. I can.. I am here. Wake up.“ Slowly the tensioin left Steve’s body, he struggled to open his eyes. As soon as Bucky came in focus, he pulled him into a hug. He hugged him even tighter as he felt him tense and struggle. „You’re not going anywhere, Buck. Not again. I was so worried, I looked for you. Till the end of the line, pal! You promised.“ And he gave in, he craved the touch, the warmth of another body. „Say it again. Please, tell me.“ Steve pulled Buckys head into the crook of his neck, softly petting his hair. „You are James Buchanan Barnes. You’re my friend. I won’t let you go again. Please Bucky, you have to stay.“ Jim sighed and wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders. „Maybe I can... if you help me, maybe I can be Bucky again.“

Steve loosened his grip eventually. No matter what the man in front of him said. He would always be Bucky to him. He let go of his shoulders only to catch his face in both hands. He was content to just stare at him for now. He had missed Bucky since he woke up in this new age. Nothing made sense, he knew nobody, but everybody seemed to know him. Finally he had something solid to hold on to. He had Bucky. He didn’t care that Bucky didn’t know how to cope. Steve wasn’t very good at it himself. Hell, he couldn’t even answer Sam what made him happy. But now the solid presence in front of him, that made him happy. No matter how broken they both were, they could make it work somehow, right? With Bucky he could reach every goal. The man held very still, as if afraid he could hurt him if he moved. It was fine though. They would manage somehow. Being still wasn’t a bad thing, they’d need time. Time to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any thoughts on this work, I'd really like to hear about it :)
> 
> Also if you'd like, you can find me on tumblr. I'm very new to tumblr though, so I might be a little unorganized for now.  
> http://syusukewrites.tumblr.com/


	4. Of memories and nightmares

Three months later 

Steve came home to some old music and the smell of freshly cooked food. He tried to sneak into the kitchen to surprise Bucky. Before he could even step into the kitchen, he heard his friend softly singing along. The image before him was so perfectly peaceful, it was almost absurd. Bucky stood at the stove wearing slacks and a dark blue tanktop, completely concentrated on his task. Steve was pretty sure, that Bucky was aware of his presence, but chose to react like a normal human being. The clothes did nothing to hide, how thin Bucky was. He had lost some muscle. The arms didn’t quite fit together. The robotic left arm, was as buff as ever, but on his right he had very little muscle, since only recently he got the clearance to train it again. Steve could also clearly see the scar tissue on his shoulder. It alwas broke his heart a little, thinking about the aweful experiments he had to endure. Bucky turned his head to smile at Steve. He was having a good day, no bad memories so far and the food was almost ready. “Hey kid, mind setting up the table? It’s as good as ready.” They had dinner while chatting away about their days. Bucky had been to the psychologist again and so far it went well. He was getting better at coping with the regret and guilt. It also helped, that he had enrolled in some classes on engineering. Bucky was fascinated with all the tech and happily spent most of his time studying. He didn’t have to mingle with the class, since he only took online classes and just emailed his questions to the professor. Steve was a little jealous, because his friend seemed to adjust to the new age so much faster. It had only taken a month until Bucky was the one to explain stuff to Steve and rolling his eyes, whenever Steve didn’t get it. They had fallen back into a comfortable rhythm after a couple days. They’ve been close before the war, but now it was like they were desperately clutching to each other. Two men out of their time, left to find a new reason to live. Steve was still a part of the avengers, but he refused to work for any agency or military organisation. Shield had been compromised and the hydra responsible for that, were the same people who captured and tortured Bucky. Steve couldn’t forget these things and so he resorted to occasional appearances on the media (for some reason he was named the spokesman of the avengers) and training sessions with Sam or Clint.

Bucky was having a lot of good days recently. His nights, however, were never good. He often woke up screaming, his metal arm kicking into attack mode immediately. He managed to snap out of it after a minute or two. Going back to sleep wasn’t an option though. On such nights he lay down on the floor next to Steve’s bed, concentrating solely on his heart-beat. The steady rhythm never failed to calm him. Steve’s presence made him feel at home and sometimes he remembered their life before the war. He remembered the mines and their tiny appartment, remembered how exhausted he was all the time. Bucky had never told Steve how close he came to death a few times coz the mine wasn’t stable enough. He’d never tell him that he occasionally pushed older men out of harms way, so they could go back to their kids. He’d never tell him that he had once waited half a day alone in the dark surrounded by muggy air and barely an inch to move, before they found him under the rubble of a collapsed tunnel. As frightnening as that memory was, it wasn’t as bad as the memories of the asset. Although he found that to this day he disliked small rooms or crowded spaces and avoided them if possible. Most of the memories before the war were happy though. Life hadn’t been easy, but he was quite content. Steve had come close to death several times during harsh winters and Bucky had done everything to keep him warm and pay for his medicine. They only had the one bed anyway and since Steve needed the warmth there was no point in getting another one. Bucky didn’t know how many nights he lay in Steve’s room and watched the man sleep. 

Today was different, because when Bucky looked up again he was met by blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up..”, Bucky whispered as he started to get up. Steve blinked rapidly, still sleepy he reached for his friend. He tugged at Buckys sleeve and smiled shyly: “Come here, Buck. Did you have a nightmare?” He hesitated, but nodded in agreement. He sat down next to Steve, looking him over. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep, Steve.”, he gave him a little smirk, “Old men need all the sleep they can get.” “Jerk..”, Steve mumbled, “Wanna stay?” Bucky hesitated, he’d like to stay. But they both needed the sleep and he didn’t want to trouble his friend. How could he convey that without being rude? Steve basically heard Bucky thinking, deciding he didn’t care much. He moved a little and patted the mattress beside him. “For old time’s sake?”, it sounded playful. Eventually the slightly older man laid down, awkwardly shufling as far away as possible. Steve wouldn’t have it though, he pulled him to his chest. He chuckled lightly, too absurd was the idea that he was spooning his friend much like Bucky used to do, to keep him warm before the war and sometimes even during the war in cold winter nights. Steve still couldn’t forget the war and his many aweful memories. Some nights he still woke from nightmares. It was mainly the same nightmare over and over again. Bucky falling from the train, Bucky not recognizing him on the bridge, Bucky beating him on the helicarrier... But Bucky was here, he remembered. Steve couldn’t and wouldn’t blame his friend for anything that happened. He was sad, almost couldn’t bear the knowledge of what Bucky went through. He almost wished that Zola was still alive, so that he could kill him with his own hands. For now, he was just glad that he could hold Bucky and feel his heartbeat, which was a little fast. “But.. I knew him.. I knew him..”, Bucky was talking in his sleep, body tense and hands fiddling nervously. It must be a memory of the asset, because Steve couldn’t make sense of it. Somehow even the speech pattern was very different from Bucky, it didn’t feel familiar at all. Bucky started hyperventilating and Steve finally snapped out of it. He started shaking him, calling out to him. “Bucky, please... come on.. it’s just a dream.. dammit! Wake up!”, only the commanding tone got through to the ex-assassin. His eyes snapped open suddenly, he moved quickly out of Steve’s reach and stopped only when he was half-way out of the door. He turned back: “I know you. You were on the bridge.” Steve was shocked. Everything went so rapidly. “Uhm.. yes, you know me. You’ve known me your whole life. You’re name is James Buchanan Barnes and your my friend.”, he repeated the words that brought his friend back almost five months ago. They kept staring at each other. Steve saw how multiple emotions flickered behind blue eyes. He saw how they settled on recognition and a deep sadness, maybe a hint of regret. “Sorry... I woke you up again.”, Bucky spoke softly. He turned again to leave for his own room, he’d study a bit, or anything really. He couldn’t face Steve now. He basically ran back. He locked his door. 

The next morning Steve regretted leaving Bucky alone earlier and wanted to make up for it with a nice breakfast. Bucky was severly underweight and had to eat more anyway. Steve was a bit concerned to be honest. Bucky had always been the healthy and strong one. It was nice that he could care for him though, it felt like repaying him for the years before the war. So he searched the kitchen for ingredients, he had a lot of work to do.


	5. Conditioned response

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing takes a long time. The recovery isn't a long road of successes. You get better, then you get worse. Sometimes it feels like you're not improving at all. For James this whole therapy thing seems more and more useless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As for the whole name thing: I confused myself with it ^^'' There is a point to it, I swear. But it's just very bothersome at this point. So what you need to know is, that I'll be talking about James. The only one he tolerates calling him Bucky would be Steve. And as he still struggles with his identity, he thinks of himself either as James or the asset. I hope, that clears it up.  
> Now, enjoy!

James got frustrated after several months of therapy. He still couldn’t control his emotions very well and was sometimes overwhelmed by memories of the asset, sometimes even from the war time. It all came down to Zola eventually. He knew the scientist was dead and couldn’t do him any harm. But through all of his suffering Zola had been a constant. The mad scientist had been a machine longer than he’d been human, his brain still worked in cruel ways. The modifications for his arm, the invention of the wiping machine, the altering until it finally worked... the sheer amount of pain he had to go through. The wipings were the worst memories he had. All the killing in the later years was something he could handle now. It hadn’t been him. He didn’t have control over his own mind. He just.. functioned. Like a programmed robot.

Nobody had considered him a human in a long time. To Zola he was an experiment, one that could be altered to his whimps. For Hydra he was the asset, a tactical weapon. To some handlers he’d been a ventile. Something to beat up, so they could get rid of their anger and frustrations. But these things he could manage. What really got to him, was the early time with Hydra. The first time Zola laid his hands on him, injected the serum and tested the healing factor or the amount of pressure he could take. It had been brutal, he had lost all hope then. He’d been ready to give up, regretting that he hadn’t been able to avoid military service. Regretting that he’d never see Steve again, leaving him alone in this war stricken world. He was fading back into the dark, losing consciousness, but then Steve stood there. Surely it must have been a dream or hallucination. Automatically James identified himself, waiting for the hallucination to disappear and the man to turn into another torturer. He waited, but the man in front of him still looked like Steve. Strong hands pulled him free and dragged him along, away from his personal nightmare. They got out and things went back into a comfortable routine. The howling commando was incredibly good at what they did. A special force to be reckoned with. They would usually get out of their fights relatively unharmed, a few scratches maybe. But at some point in that train he messed up. He took a big risk to cover for Steve and he paid the price. He fell from that train and as far as he could tell, he was unconscious before he hit the ground. When he came to, he was strapped to a table and he was in agonizing pain. He struggled against the bonds, unable to get free or ease the pain. His whole body was on fire and he realized quickly that there was something missing, he couldn’t feel his left hand, only immense pain in his upper-arm. _Hello again. Seargant Barnes._ Even remembering it now, he felt the shivers running through him.

“James? You coming?”

He snapped out of it. The familiar voice calmed him a little. After grabbing his stuff, he went to the living room. He smiled at Natasha and let himself be pulled into a hug. She looked at him disapprovingly: “I’m not going out with you like that. Shave.” There was no discussing that. She sat down on the couch, pretending to read an engineering magazine. Well, he might as well shave. The man in the mirror looked like hell. Tired, bags under his eyes and just overall exhausted. He shaved carefully. A hair cut wouldn’t hurt. It made him uneasy when his hair got longer, reminded him of the soldier. He slipped up, a fine line of blood trickling down his chin. It took him a second to realize, he had heard a shot. That was all it took for the instinct to take over. He slipped into the mindset of the soldier so fast, it was scary. There was no suitable weapon in the bathroom, but the metal arm was as strong as ever. He’d have to make do with that. Silently he sneaked into the living room again, always careful to stay out of sight. There were three people in the room. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized Natasha kneeling behind the couch. A man stood in the doorway gun in hand. He was quickly closing in on Natasha. The soldier signaled to the redhead, where the guy was coming from, before deliberately making noise and showing himself. Natasha reacted before the guy even aimed properly at James and kicked the gun from his hand. The moment he saw movement in his peripheral vision it was too late. A strong arm closed around his throat while another stuck an EMP to his metal arm. The arm went slack immediately and as much as the soldier struggled, he was too weak without his only weapon. James felt the soldiers mindset fading away, as he slowly lost consciousness. A speck of red flashed before his eyes, then everything went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened? Why did he feel so dizzy?

“Don’t avoid this. I’m serious, Steve! You didn’t see it. It’s dangerous. This can’t go on. Please, you have to do something about it.”, Natashas voice was hushed and James was struggling to hear it. He had a headache. It was really hard to concentrate. A small groan escaped him, as he tried to open his eyes. “Hey, you’re okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”, Steve talked softly to him. He rested one hand on James forearm to ground him. He repeated the words over and over again, just the way he did after nightmares. “’M okay. Stevie?”, his voice was hoarse, barely audible, “Where am I?” James finally opened his eyes. Steve was sitting on his right side, Natasha standing behind him. She smiled at him and silently backed off, leaving them alone in what seemed to be a hospital room. “Bucky? Stay with me, okay?”, Steve sounded worried, “Hey, hey! No! Buck!” But James couldn’t hear him anymore, the darkness had claimed him once again.

Steve panicked. He slapped Bucky lightly and then with increasing force. He only stopped when Natasha caught his hand midair. He was crying, starting to hyperventilate. He couldn’t lose Bucky again, he couldn’t. Not now, not after he fought so hard to get back some kind of normal life. Natasha held him close, patting his back. Steve was still crying, the tears blocking his view. But he knew how Bucky looked. His left leg was broken, the metal arm had been removed and the stump was so red it looked infected. Why? Why did they come after him? Bucky had suffered enough. He just wanted him to have some peace. He looked so pale and frail. The man on the hospital bed looked nothing like the winter soldier, who attacked him just about a year ago. He wasn’t threatening or strong. He was just a shell of a man, of Bucky, of the only person that really mattered to Steve right now. “Breathe, breathe. Come on, Cap. He’ll be fine. Get it together, you’re no use like this.”, Natasha whispered in his ear. Just low enough so the doctor and nurses couldn’t hear. They rolled James out, back into the OP. 

“It’s okay, Steve. Everything is under control. He recognized you. That’s good. That’s very good. The soldier wasn’t in control. He’ll be fine. He’ll come back to you.”

\--

They weren’t allowed into James’ room for the night. Natasha practically had to drag Steve out of the hospital. They couldn’t go back to the appartement, because SHIELD was analyzing everything for now. So they settled for the closest motel. Steve didn’t react much to anything. He let Nat manhandle him around. She sat him down on the bed, got him to drink some water and then sat down next to him with a big sigh. “I am actually sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but... I couldn’t get through to him. He almost killed the guy.”, her voice was steady, but Steve could hear how hard she had to concentrate. “I didn’t have another choice. It had to be done. But for what it’s worth: I wish I didn’t have to break his leg.”

Steve took a deep breath. Nat had told him about the Hydra guys ambushing them in his flat. Nat had heard them, but didn’t react fast enough awaiting Steve and Sam. James had helped her at first, she could knock out one guy quickly. The second one however had James in a choke-hold and before she could help him, the soldier had taken over. It must have been a terrifying sight. This skinny man, unhealthily skinny at that, with a dead look in his eyes. He pushed back, knocking the air out of his attacker for just a second. Just enough time to pull of the EMP and breaking free with the metal arm. The movement was so swift that the guy didn’t even see the punch coming. The soldier broke his nose with that and grabbed him by the collar. He kept pounding into him, blood flying everywhere. Nat’s shouts didn’t reach James. So she had to resort to the one thing that always brought James back. Pain.

Steve just shook his head. “I’m not angry at you. You did the right thing. I just wish they would leave him alone. It’s hard to see him like that. I feel.. helpless.”, Steve kept staring at the floor, refusing to acknowledge his surroundings. Nat let him. She shrugged: “I get it. I’ll get us some food. Try to relax a bit, maybe a shower?”

\---

When James came to, he was alone. The room was dark and he heard a few machines beeping. He flexed his fingers, stopping immediately when he didn’t feel anything on his left. His arm was gone. It was strange. Impractical. But somehow it didn’t bother him too much. Hydra had given him that arm, so it wasn’t really a loss. It made him weak though. If anybody wanted to kill him, now would be the moment. His movement was heavily constricted and he still felt dizzy. He was too exhausted to stay awake.

“Mister Barnes? I’m sorry, I need to wake you up. Mister Barnes?”, the nurse was softly shaking his shoulder. He came to quicker this time. “Mmyeah.. yeah. Where am I?”, his throat still hurt. The nurse smiled at him: “You’re in a hospital Mister Barnes. Miss Romanoff brought you in yesterday. We had to operate your leg. Unfortunately you had an infection spreading from your left shoulder into your blood vessels, which resultated in a septic shock. So we had to put you in a coma for treatment. It wasn’t for long, but you’ll feel the effects for a few more hours. You were choked, so it’s probably hard to speak for you. I’ll let you have a moment and come back in half an hour with the doctor. He’ll explain what happened with your arm and leg further. Oh and Captain Rogers asked me to phone him, when you wake up. Is that okay with you?” James nodded slowly. He was so tired, but Stevies gonna be here soon. So everything should be fine. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about his safety. The voice in the back of his head shouted at him, to take guard or at the very least stay awake and aware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like a visual of Bucky in the hospital:  
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/aa/be/79/aabe79fe050216ec90c4909a1c530c38.jpg 
> 
> oh and if I say he is unhealthily skinny, I mean it... I imagined a transformation sort of like this, which is why it was so easy for Nat to break his leg in the first place:  
> Christian Bale Batman to the Machinist  
> http://media2.giga.de/2014/01/bale_comp_1.jpg


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which Bucky am I talking to?

“..been unconscious again. We couldn’t wake him. The doctor said to let him rest till noon and then wake him up. We need to check his mental state and... Mister Barnes?”

Voice. Female. Close. Barnes? Barnes... was that his name? No, he didn’t have a name. Maybe a target? It did sound familiar. Dizzy. Fighting ability compromised. No feedback on the left arm, right leg probably broken. Sight blurred. A woman, no threat. Can be eliminated without difficulty. A man, strong build. Correction, former target, Captain America. Level 8, no way of taking him down. Tactical retreat, if possible. 

The nurse approached James, but was held back by Steve. He shook his head in a silent ‘no’. “Would you mind leaving us alone?”, Steve was asking, but clearly there was a commanding tone to it. The nurse hesitated a moment, but then left without asking. 

“At ease, soldier. Cooperate with the staff, they are taking care of you maintenance.”, it hurt Steve to treat his friend like that. After talking with Bucky about his time with Hydra a few times, he was quite certain, that playing the role of the soldiers current handler was the most effective thing to do. Judging by the way Bucky visibly relaxed his right arm, it seemed to work.

“Was the mission a success, Sir?”, the soldiers voice was perfectly steady. There was no emotion in it, no hint of the pain he must be in. Steve knew his friend too well though. He saw the wheels turning behind those cold eyes. The soldier already knew something was wrong. Most likely he just played along until he had assessed the situation. Steve stood up straighter, doing his best to show his strength in a not so subtle way. The bigger a threat he was to the soldier, the more likely he was to stay put. 

“Mission report. What’s the last thing you remember?”  
The soldier watched him closely. He thought about it for a moment: “Mission: Retrieve Sitwell. Eliminate Romanoff. Avoid Captain America, eliminate if necessary. Return to Secretary Pierce. Status: Sitwell dead. Romanoff unknown, presumably escaped. Captain America present, none threatening. Mission compromised, tactical retreat. Conflicting orders.” The soldier was certain that Captain America had seen through his ruse. There was no point in pretending any more.

Steve tensed at that. He had to go through with it now, they had talked about this. He had even asked about it, when he met Bucky’s psychiatrist. He looked directly at the soldier: “The chain of command was breached. You were given wrong intel. Secretary Pierce has been eliminated by now. He worked for SHIELD and used you for his own agenda. He sent you after me, because I discovered his treachery. Romanoff has assisted me in the investigation and was therefore also targeted. I am your handler now, understood?” Steve hoped for the best. He almost couldn’t stand the lie, especially not treating his friend like a weapon instead of a human.

Wrong intel. Plausible. Romanoff was a former ally. Captain America though... but it seemed plausible. The soldier simply nodded, accepting the information, but staying alert. Secretary Pierce had always been different. He hadn’t treated him like other handlers. 

“Soldier. At ease, that’s an order. Rest, I need you ready as soon as possible.”

Rest. Letting the body heal. Precaution, no visible threat though. Follow orders. Rest.

Steve watched as the soldier accepted his situation and closed his eyes again. He hoped that the next time he woke up, he’d be Bucky again. There was no way to know who would wake up, until his body had healed and he had had time to deal with the memories of the fight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This work is unbeta'd so far. So if you would like to help me out that would be really nice :)  
> I'm not a native speaker and therefore wouldn't mind a little help, especially since I don't really get the whole interpunctuation thing in English. Apparently, my vocabulary on linkers is kinda limited. To avoid overusing the same ones over and over again, I'll need help. I'm trying my best though ^^
> 
> Thanks again for reading! (This story is meant to be around 10 chapters, if you wanna know)


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